In What Sense Thou Wilt
by Memories Left Abandoned
Summary: Ben subs for Riley's senior history class. Romeo and Juliet references and humor ensue. Slash, one-shot.


**A/N: Yes, I know that really, Riley and Ben met in a cubicle or whatever. I like this version better, though =D It's a little crack-ish, and it features college student!Riley. Because he was probably a hoot in college. That's right—I just used the word 'hoot' when I wasn't talking about owls.**

**Onto the story now.**

**Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine.**

I really didn't want to teach that day.

They'd called me at five in the morning and told me a professor had just had a heart attack, and they needed a sub for that day.

The class load was easy enough, but I really, really didn't feel like going, and I didn't know why.

But money was money, and I needed to pay the rent. So I ended up at Washington University for the day.

I'd gotten through every lecture but one, and it was nearing the end of the day—and my patience. I remembered about halfway through that I didn't like teaching because, in general, I didn't like college students. The immaturity level was unbearable.

And I haven't even met _him_ yet.

I was five minutes from the end of my lecture. I was speaking on the history of modern government at the time, and I could tell the class didn't care. But I wasn't expecting laughter, so when I heard it, I stopped dead and looked at the culprit.

He was sitting towards the back on the left side of the hall, and didn't appear to be paying any attention at all. On the contrary, he was reading a book, poorly concealed behind a laptop.

I blinked once—twice. I didn't even know what to say. "If you're not going to pay attention, you might as well leave," I said, weakly.

He looked up at me, without seeming to care too much. "I am paying attention. Just not to you."

The rest of the students poorly stifled their laughter, and I felt my face grow hot. "Class dismissed," I said. A few whooped, and I could see the disturber begin to pack up his things. "Except you," I clarified.

He rolled his eyes, and a few students laughed. The rest of the class cleared out quickly, and I was left with him. I approached him. "What's your name?"

"Riley Poole," he answered with a sigh. Clearly, getting interrogated by a substitute professor was not on his agenda for the day. Then again, interrogating a student wasn't on mine, either.

"What were you laughing at, Riley Poole?"

"Romeo and Juliet."

I raised my eyebrows. "Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy."

"That doesn't mean it's not funny," he answered. "Have you ever read the first scene?"

"Between Gregory and Sampson? Sure."

He smirked. "Read it again."

Unsure as to how the 'interrogation' had led to that, I took the book from his outstretched hand and read through the scene. "I don't see the humor," I said, giving it back.

"That's because you're not looking at it right," he replied, matter-of-factly. "For instance." He cleared his throat. "Me they shall feel while I am able to stand; and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh."

He raised his eyebrows, and suddenly I got it. "Oh."

"Ha!" he laughed. "Shakespeare was a genius."

"That doesn't explain why Shakespeare was in an American History class," I said, trying to steer our conversation back on topic.

"Look," he said, sitting on the edge of the table. "I'm only in this class to fill a requirement."

"What year are you?" I asked.

"Senior," he answered.

I squinted. "What are you majoring in?"

"Computer science."

"Why are you in a history class?" I asked, confused.

"Ugh." I could tell this was a story he didn't particularly like. "Computer science by itself doesn't have enough hours to fulfill the state requirement, so anyone who majors in it has to take a minor. I minored in English, and for some reason a history class is part of the requirement for that minor. This was the first time I could get into the class."

I nodded, and then couldn't find anything to say. We stood in an awkward silence for a moment before he broke in again.

"So how old are you?"

"Is that an appropriate question to ask your professor?"

"You're not my professor, you're my substitute professor."

"Hopefully you don't treat your normal professor with this lack of respect."

"I don't, I save it all for you. And you didn't answer my question."

I pursed my lips. "Thirty-three. You?"

"Nineteen."

I raised my eyebrows. "Aren't you a little young to be a senior?"

"Aren't you a little young to be a professor?"

He had me there. "I'm not a professor by trade."

"What are you by trade?"

"Historian."

"You're definitely too young for that. All the historians I know are ancient."

"I'm not that young."

"Neither am I."

"Younger than me."

"Old enough to know better."

"Too young to care."

"You're probably right about that," he said with a smile. I wondered again how our conversation had gotten to where it was, and why it felt so natural.

"Are you going to be back Friday?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "I don't know yet. Your professor probably won't be back for a few weeks."

He nodded, suddenly showing no emotion in his face. We stood for another moment in silence, which he again broke. "So…can I go now?"

"Right." Another reason I wasn't a teacher; I can't discipline people to save my life. I stepped out of the way. "Go ahead."

He packed up his stuff and walked past me, giving me one last smile. The silence wasn't awkward until the door slammed, and then I was deafened by the lack of sound. With a shake of my head, I began to pack up my notes.

Sometime during the day, a few papers had fallen to the floor. I was busy picking them up, so I didn't even notice his return until he stood over me, and I didn't know what to say to him when I did notice him. "Um…"

"Eloquent," he joked, but I could tell he was less comfortable than before.

"Thanks. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Um…" He seemed to have forgotten what we came for.

"Eloquent," I said, standing. He was closer than I expected, and for a moment we were both rendered speechless. I had the sense to take a step back, but I knew there was still tension.

"Did you want something?" I asked again.

He bit his lip, and then smirked. "That's what she said," he muttered.

_College kids_, I thought with an exasperated sigh. I turned back to my briefcase until his hand caught my shoulder, spun me around and forced his lips against mine. Again, the only word that came to mind was natural. His lips felt confident against mine, and his hands like they belonged around my neck.

When we parted for air, I had to ask. "Is that what you wanted?"

A shy grin found his lips. "Yeah, I'm not gonna lie."

I smiled. "I'll be back Friday."

And he touched his lips to mine again.

**A/N: Hah. I like it. …review, please?**


End file.
